The Lizard Who Liked Art

So we come back from Estepona and we unpack our bags. It is cooler in Madrid now, and we are glad that we left our windows open while we were gone because now we can breathe and we don't have to hang out in our underwear all the time. Not that underwear all the time is a bad way to live, as long as you have some privacy (see David Sedaris's latest piece in the New Yorker). But that is neither here nor there.

A gives a little yell from the studio/bedroom, "There's a lizard on my painting!" Her brave husband comes in from the living room, smiling. Yes, indeed, there is a fat little lizard on the backside of her latest painting. We scare it onto the wall and trap it with a tupperware container and set it free on the wall outside our flat. The alert reader will notice perhaps the uncanny resemblance with the gecko that has become so ubiquitous on US national television spots. But this one was Spanish. I can't be sure, but I think he had a little moustache.